Mill Fire

My mother-in-law rang around nine. She wanted to know what all the black smoke was about. I hadn't noticed it myself, so I went outside- and there it was boiling up behind the housetops. Not only smoke, but flakes of fire. A passer-by said it was the mill belonging- "excuse my french- to that robbing bastard". We knew exactly who he meant.

Ailz and I got into the car and went to have a gawp, but the streets were clogged, so we gave up- and drove home- and I set out again on foot to find a viewpoint.

A crowd had gathered at a point halfway up Honeywell Lane- where we could look through the gates of an adjoining property right into the heart of the blaze. By the time I arrived the walls were gone- and the fire was roaring away among the girders. Every time a really tall flame went up the crowd cheered.

This morning the air smells of char, the newspapers assure us no-one was hurt- and rumours are flying.